


Devils drink free

by unnaturallysupernatural (iconicLavinia)



Series: Devils drink free [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Demon Dean Winchester, F/M, Fights, Fist Fights, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 15:49:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20066554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iconicLavinia/pseuds/unnaturallysupernatural
Summary: AU where Meg met Demon!Dean and the two of them decided to have fun in the only way they knew how. Kicking down doors and starting bar fights.





	Devils drink free

People were merrily drinking their demons away as "I knew you were trouble" by Taylor Swift played on the jukebox. It filled their spirits while the bartender filled their drinks. There were a few sparse groups of people drinking while a crowd formed around the dart board. A man stepped up to the board and landed a bullseye. An up roar went up as people slammed money into each other’s fists and sent daggers their way. The other people jumped into the high skies, holding onto their $20 bill for dear life. 

A few enraged betters tossed around a knife in their hands, eager to send the silver shard straight into someone’s throat. The matching leather jackets they all wore acted as a barrier to stop any fists from flying. The gang’s code of respect. No one could exactly pick a fight with one of them and not expect to turn up dead in the alley with their wallets taken. The moment was short lived. 

The bar was silent as the door came flying off its hinges. The happy go lucky atmosphere of the bar was torn in half. The patrons jumped and turned their heads in abject horror as two demons waltzed in, wearing matching cocky smiles and angel blades. Their infamous reputation trailing behind them as the lights flickered in synchrony with their steps. Dean Winchester and Meg Masters. Dean was in his classic trouble ensemble of red shirts and classy hair. He had a spot of red lipstick on his cheek. Meg was is her classic troublemaker uniform of a purple and leather. A mass amount of stolen wallets lined her pockets to the point where they could fall out. 

“I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

Dean let up a hand and flicked it toward the jukebox. A wave of tables and chairs flew into the machine, crushing it. Sparks rained out of it as the mangled notes of the song died in the air.

“God, I hate Taylor Swift, ” he spat. They sauntered over to the bar, daring anyone to so much as look at them. One woman made the mistake of breathing in their direction and was greeted with piercing black eyes staring into her soul. She screamed.

Meg spun onto the stool and lent her elbow on the bar. “2 Vodkas. Straight.”  
“I’ll have mine Bi, if you don’t mind,” Dean interjected. He sent a wink to the bartender who went furiously red and nearly tripped over his own feet just standing here. Meg rolled her eyes.  
“Like I said. 2 Vodkas. Straight.”

The bartender’s eyes went wide as he sprinted to get their order, his hands shaking. Dean’s back pocket buzzed. He pulled out his phone and barely took one look at the caller ID before swiping it away. It was fast, but not fast enough for Meg not to notice. “You can’t keep blowing him off forever, Deany.” 

The bartender slid their drinks to them only to be rewarded with a sly wink from Dean. He downed the drink in 3 seconds. Meg sighed, clicking her fingers to order more. Dean started to drink them like shots. “Trust me, I can do a lot more to him than that.”

“This is Clarence we’re talking about. Hell, I’m surprised he hasn’t busted down the doors with the might of heaven to get you back.”  
“There’s a very good reason for that. It’s because we broke the door.”  
Dean glanced at the door-sized hole in the wall, where a mob of gangsters started to file in. He noticed the identical silver glare pressed against the hem of their jackets. Meg snapped him back into reality.

“Dean.”  
“Meg.”  
“I’m serious. And with your daring brother-”

Dean set down his glass a little too quick, averting his gaze. Meg shook her head to herself. The mob had trailed in. Groups hustled together near the pool tables and dart boards, ever so subtly giving them the stink eye. One by one they drifted up to the bar. Humans were so cute. They thought this was going to scare them off when in reality Meg smelled them from a mile away and stayed for the fun.

“Just saying, they could take us both back. Knights of hell or not,” said Meg.  
“I know for a fact that they can’t. Seeing as I ran into them last week.”  
Meg nearly spat out her drink. “You what?”  
“Yeah. You were off disappointing god-”  
“My favourite hobby.”  
“-and they raided the motel. It was close, they nearly had me. But then I did the whole ‘I’m your brother Sammy’ with them. Long story short, Sam now has a black eye and I got a new bike.”  
“I’ll be damned, Winchester. Maybe you do know what it takes to be a demon. You might be better than some of the devils I know”  
“I’ve killed most of the devils you knew.” 

Meg scoffed. She glanced up at the mob of angry losers subtly surround them. The leader stepped to Dean and tapped him on the shoulder. Dean glanced sideways at him.

“I think it's time you two started heading out.” The leader slammed the pipe into his fists. Meg smiled at it, resisting laughter, while Dean laid back in his seat fiddling with his glass. 

“I don’t want to leave. Meg? Do you want to leave?”  
“No. Not at all. Quite comfortable here.”

The man slammed the pipe onto the bar. The table had a mini earthquake which sent their many unfinished drinks up into the air and slashing. Needless to say, this pissed both of the demons off. Meg set her jaw. 

“Listen up, pretty boy. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way.”

Dean downed another glass before both of the demons set their glasses down. He then rose above man’s height and grinned.

“I vote hard way,” he said before headbutting the man in the face. 

The man stumbled onto the bar. He looked up at Dean with a look that read ‘I’ll kill you’. He’d received that look so often. Often enough to know that he was never the one that died.  
Two other gang members ran up to him. Dean smiled as he stepped out of the way and threw one of them into the bar. The other one stumbled and fell onto Meg. Meg caught his arm and slammed his head into the bar. 

Dean and Meg went back to back. “Who else?” she announced. All of them brought out weapons. Meg smiled. It was her freaking birthday. “Perfect.”

Dean threw the pipe to Meg. She slammed it into the woman’s head. Blood poured out of the wound, falling onto the hem of Meg’s shirt and cheek. The woman stood back up and tried to punch her. Meg slammed the pipe back into her. A fist hit Meg’s head from behind. She spun and saw 2 other guys bearing knives and crooked smiles. One of them whistled at her. 

“Bite me”, Meg spat. With a flick of her wrist, she sent them flying into the shelves. The glass shattered, sending a rainfall of flammable alcohol down onto her. Without batting an eye she could set them on fire. She could set the whole bar on fire. The stupidly wise words of an angel rang in her eyes. Her stupid unicorn and his stupid disapproval for killing people.

Dean grabbed a man by the shoulders and headbutted him to the ground. Two other members grabbed his arms and forced Dean into the bar.

“Careful. Didn’t your mother ever tell you to keep your hands to yourself?” he asked. They answered by slammed his head into the bar. His smile fell.

“In that case..” Dean snapped his fingers and sent the gangsters flying into the pool tables. He let the angel blade fall from his sleeve and held it casually tossed it around in his hands. The gangsters took a moment to gawk at it before rushing him. That was their second mistake.

Dean slammed the blade into a woman's chest. Blood squirted onto his face and shirt. It didn’t matter, it was red and covered in blood anyways. He watched the blood rush out of the other’s faces as tears built up in their eyes. It was always amusing. They came running at him. Pilling punches into his skull and chest, each one harder than the last. One of them held Dean’s hands behind his back as he got beaten to a bloody pulp.

A gangster ran at Meg. She rolled her eyes and tripped him up onto the bar. She reached for a bottle and slammed it over his head. The shards of glass cut deep into his skull. Meg help up the bottle to the gangsters with a look that read, ‘You want me? Come and get me’.

A woman ran into her and pushed her over the bar counter. Meg splattered onto the ground. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the bartender hiding behind the bar. She was about to say, “We’ll pay for the damage” but then the woman drove on top of her, punching and clawing. Meg pushed her off and started to throw punches into her face. The woman yelled out in pain. Not the way Meg prefered to make women scream. 

She tore herself away from her and jumped up onto the table. She’d had enough of this. She took out her angel blade and twirled it in her hand. She threw it into the heart of the dick punching Dean. Dean took the moment to break free of the gangster’s grip and judo flip him. They yelled out in pain. Dean broke their spine.

Dean tore out the blade from the gangster’s ribs and threw it to Meg. She caught it as she jumped off the table and plunged it into the first person she saw. The man yelled out before collapsing to the ground. 

Dean went up to one of them and elbowed them in the chest. They spat out blood. Meg finished off the job by knocking them out with the but of her blade. Another one came up behind Dean. Meg restrained their arms and pushed them to the ground. Dean knelt down to his eye level, grinning.

“Any last words?”  
“Please don’t kill me”, they cried.  
“Hmm…”, Dean looked to Meg and then the liter of corpses on the floor.  
“No.” He plunged the angel blade into their chest. And without a scream, they died. 

Meg let his body fall. She dusted off her shoulders, ignoring the stains of blood on her shirt. She glanced at Dean, staring at the body with nothing behind his eyes. He no longer had a soul behind his eyes. Now that he was a demon, Meg could see his true face- not that it was that different. It still had the same deep scars and blood. His skin was turned to ash, the blood keeping it glued together.

Dean stood up and sauntered over to the bar, stepping over all the bodies. “Want another drink?”  
“Always.”

Meg zipped over to the bar stools in a flash of black smoke. Dean widened his eyes as he poured out several more drinks.

“Now you have got to teach me that,” he said.  
“One day, Deano. When you’re all grown up and out of pigtails.”

Dean handed Meg a drink. He sat down on his stool when it collapsed in on itself. He looked up and realized he was shorter than Meg. “Did this get broken?”  
“No. You just got shorter.”  
Dean rolled his eyes and started doing shots of vodka. “At least now wearing the same height.”

Meg took a sip, admiring the chaos of the bar. The lights near the booths started to flicker.  
“I think we did good, Winchester.” They clinked their drinks.  
“I think we did.” Dean soaked in the harmonious silence of the recently fallen gang members. The moment was cut short.

The bar went still as the door frame came flying off the wall. The all mighty Castiel charged in with - what Meg guessed - was all the power of heaven had behind him. As it turned out, heaven got a budget increase. Behind him was Sam Winchester, in the flesh and a lot angier than Meg remembered him being. They both wore the same mad expression, eyes piercing and jaw clenched with fists at the ready. 

“I told ya he’d come for you..”, Meg mumbled. Dean elbowed her leg.  
“Heya fellas! What’s happening?” he cheered. He raised his arms up in the air and flashed his eyes black. He wasn’t their Dean anymore and he wanted to make sure they knew that. They never seemed to get the message.

Castiel’s face fell as tears started to sting the back of his throat. It was only for a second but Dean noticed Sam’s hands flinch away from him. He shifted his feet, swaying the tiniest bit. Dean knew what that meant, the image was burned into his muscle memory. He was hesitating. 

Meg leaned forward, wishing she had a box of popcorn. She settled for vodka.

“Dean,” they called out in synchrony. Cas’s was a lot soften and heartfelt. Sam sounded like he’d been through hell looking for him. Dean guessed from his attire, he had been. You couldn’t just add flannel to your outfit and expect it to magically be good, Sam, he thought. 

“What happened here?” asked Sam, looking around confused. Just as he realised that they were no longer breathing, he set his jaw and tightened his grip on his gun. He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he was reminding himself, This wasn’t Dean. 

“Classic bar fight. You know how it is,” said Dean, sipping his drink.  
“How many of your bar fights has ended with someone dead?” asked Sam, dreading the answer.  
“I think the easier question is how many of my bar fights hasn’t ended with someone hitting the can. The answer is zero.”

Cas fiddled with the hem of his sleeve, dropping an angel blade into his hand. He looked toward Meg for assistance.  
“Meg. You were supposed to take care of him,” he said.  
“And I have. We have been having an amazing time, haven’t we Deano?”  
Dean’s eyes went black. “The best.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over now. We’re taking you home,” said Cas.  
“Try. It can’t go worse for you than last time,” Dean challenged.  
“It’s different than last time,” Sam told him.  
Dean raised his eyebrows. “Why? Cause’ now you really want me back to the old self-loathing alcoholic screw-up you knew and loved?”  
“I want my brother back.”  
Dean turned his attention to Castiel. “And I suppose you want your boyfriend back too? What makes you then you’ll even get him back? Because it was meant to be? Because you loved him?”  
“No. It’s because the demon version of him is all talk.” Castiel marched toward Dean and threw him into the bar. A smile formed on Meg’s lips as she watched. Sam turned his gun to her.

“Do I have to shoot you?” he asked.  
“Not if you don’t want to.”  
“Why are you doing this? Bring Dean back and we can go back to normal.”  
“So you can de-demonise him? What’s wrong with being a demon, Sam? I for one find that a bit racist.”

Castiel slammed Dean’s face into the bar. He held him down and Dean struggled against his grip. Dean’s arms were held down as Cas flicked out the demon handcuffs and fastened him onto Dean’s wrists. 

Cas squinted his eyes and examined Dean’s cheek. “Is that lipstick?”  
Dean scoffed. “Jealous, Cassy?”  
Meg looked over from the stool and laughed. “Don’t be, Clarence. He put that on himself.” Dean mumbled a few curses.

Dean took this brief moment of Castiel’s distraction to break free. “Do that again and I’ll give you a real reason to scream.”

He kicked back hard against Cas, sending the angel stumbling back. Dean jumped up and brought his arms out to his front. Sam aimed his gun at his head. Dean jumped behind the counter. Meg flashed out of her seat and tore his arm to the ceiling. His gun fired bullets into the ceiling.

Sam spun his head around to Meg. “What-”  
“Sorry, Sam.” Meg punched him in the face. Sam fell. He noticed Dean run out the back door and followed him. Meg saw Cas move to do the same. She weighed out the options in her head. She was going to kill Dean for this.

She kicked Cas’s legs in. Cas stumbled down to a kneal and turned to see Meg holding an angel blade to his throat. Cas set his jaw, his fingers still coiled around his blade.

“Drop the blade,” said Meg. Cas glared. He begrudgingly accepted. He slowly set the blade down and raised his hands up. Meg pressed the blade up into his jaw. Cas slowly stood up. He turned to face her, his eyes heavy with disappointment. Eye colour. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he pleaded.  
“I don’t? Well, jee Cassy I wish you woulda told me that sooner. Now I can stop.”  
“You’re better than this. Let me go help Sam and we can help Dean. Together.”  
“Appealing to the romantic in me? Oh, Cas. You shouldn’t have, you’re making me blush.” Meg rolled her eyes.  
“If you don't I’ll have to stop you.”  
“Make me.”

Cas jumped back and grabbed Meg’s arm. He twisted it behind her back, keeping another gentle hand on her other arm. 

“Drop the blade.” Meg let the blade fall from her fingers. 

“There’s still time to change sides. Pick the right side.”  
“Yeah?” Meg spun into Castiel’s arms. She clung onto his trench coat and nestled her hands into his suit jacket. “I pick the fun side.” She heatbutted him. 

… 

“Stop right there,” Sam demanded. He aimed the gun right Dean’s head, right between the eyes. Dean did a 180. He gave Sam a doubtful look, pouting. 

“Gimme a break, Sammy. Can’t I have a little fun?”  
“No.” 

Dean stepped forward, testing out the waters. Sam’s hand did not waver. Dean took another step. And then another. He grinned at the realisation, which turned into a scowl.  
“You’re not going to shoot me. You love him too much. Too much to never let go. I hate to be the one to break it to you Sam but you’re brother’s dead. And he is never coming back. But me? Brand new and improved, demon me? I’m here. And I’m here to stay.”

Dean watched as tears started to sting Sam’s eyes. Through thick and thin, through life and death, they always had each other. And Sam never wanted to give that up. Sam never wanted to give Dean up. Through hell, apocalypse, soulless, leviathans, purgatory, hell (again), heaven, and now this. Some things were worse than death. And the worst version wasn’t his brother dying, they could handle that. It was him losing himself. Sam’s hands tightened around the gun.  
“Shut up.”

Dean danced further with a scowl playing on his lips. He tried to uncuff is hands. Everything the metal touched him, his skin sizzled. The hot irons pressed into his veins. It was pure pain, but nothing like what Sam was feeling.  
“Afraid of the truth, Sam? Afraid of me? You should've known this was always what I was going to become. How long ago was it that I went to hell? Hell, if Castiel over there hadn’t pulled me out this is what I would’ve been anyway. It’s destiny taking its course.”  
Sam clenched his teeth. “We don’t believe in destiny.”  
“Really? Cause’ it sure likes to follow us around.” 

Sam’s gun was touching his forehead. With a shot, he would be wasted. Or very least paralysed. Depending if Sam but a devil’s trap bullet in it or not. Moment of truth. Would Sam shoot his brother? 

Dean didn’t give him a chance to decide. He threw his head against Sam’s, sending the gun flying. Dean grabbed him and kicked hard against his chest. Sam wheezed. It sounded like his insides had been smashed. It wasn’t the first time Dean had heard that. He threw Sam to the ground. Sam slammed into the wall. 

Dean sauntered over and picked up the gun. When he turned around he was met with a slash of holy water. It burned his skin, sending a wave of fire down his face. He flashed his eyes black and growled at Sam. Sam elbowed him in the face.

Sam uppercutted him, filling Dean’s mouth with metal. Dean punched his chest. Sam blocked his arm and tried to punch him. Dean jumped back and pulled Sam to the ground. He splattered onto the ground. Dean smiled. “I always was the better fighter, Sam.”

Sam scowled. He got back up and sent an array of fists into the demon. He then leaped back and sent a roundhouse kick into his jaw. Dean went spirling. Sam unloaded a bag of salt and poured it over Dean. It burned every inch of him it hit. It blistered, sizzled and burned. By instinct his hand reached for his burning face. It wasn’t burning on the outside, but inside it felt like he was being sent through the fiery hellfires again. 

Dean tried to sent Sam flying with his powers. It didn’t work. Stupid handcuffs. Sam leant over and grabbed his cuffs. He yanked him up and dragged him back inside the bar.  
“Be careful, you might hurt Dean,” said Dean.  
“Shut up.”

…….

“Careful, there Sam,” his brother remarked, wincing at the handcuffs. Sam set his jaw and threw him into the center of the room. Sam glanced over to Meg who just kicked Cas to the ground. She noticed them and waved.

“Hey guys-” she was cut off by Castiel regaining his footing and reached for her arm. Meg stepped back, caught his arm and twisted it behind his back. 

Sam ran over to them, not giving a look to Dean crawling up from the floor. He grabbed Meg’s arms and tried to restrain her. Meg scoffed. She kicked back at his knees. Sam winced. She took that opportunity to spin herself free and send a kick to his chest. Sam stumbled to the ground. Meg walked towards Dean, who was still getting up and whose arms were burning. 

Cas restrained Meg from behind. Meg squirmed out of his grip. She kicked and lashed out at him but he still wouldn’t budge.  
“Meg. Stop!” he cried. Meg stopped struggling. She let her body relax as her head fell to the floor. She sighed.  
“No can do, Clarence.”

Meg elbowed Cas hard in the chest. Cas cried out in pain and tried to grab her again. Meg was already running. 

“What are you doing? Get up!” Meg ran over to Dean and pulled him off the ground.  
He gestured to the handcuffs. “My hands are burning.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Come on!” She pulled him out the back exit. Before they left she willed a whirlwind of tables and chairs at the door, blocking the exit.

Cas pulled a very injured Sam up and helped him onto a stool. Sam turned to Cas, covered in blood and breathing heavily. His eyes still had a faint ring of purple around it. He wheezed, the pain in his chest as loud as every breath. His muscles ached, screaming for rest. He looked up to Castiel with a dead look in his eye. He might as well have been a demon too, considering the scars on his mind. His eyelids were heavy, each blink longer than the last. He blinked. “You have the worst type.”

**Author's Note:**

> Um, Hi! This is kinda my first story so I apologise if it's bad, but I sincerely hope you enjoyed this bar fight. Thank you for reading. 
> 
> If you liked this let me know so I can write more or send me requests on Tumblr at @coffeeteaandrain.tumblr.com
> 
> That's all for now. Byee!


End file.
